


Our Doubled Twist

by Silkette



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Banter, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Prompt Fill, Time Travel, but it's not really the focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silkette/pseuds/Silkette
Summary: When a spell malfunctions and sends Lorenz into the future, he sees something he simply cannot believe.Written for a FE3H Kinkmeme prompt.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Our Doubled Twist

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ this kinkmeme prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2082.html?thread=3533602#cmt3533602) about pre-TS Lorenz reacting to post-TS Claurenz.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester’s bizarre experience took place on a warm, sunny morning during the first week of Blue Sea Moon. It was a beautiful day at Garreg Mach: the sky a vivid blue, the few lazily moving clouds white and fluffy, the slight breeze pleasant and cool. Yet the monastery was unusually quiet for such an inviting Summer’s day. Normally the outside areas would be buzzing with residents, students and faculty alike, enjoying the fine weather. However, on that particular day, most of the students and a decent chunk of the faculty had left after breakfast for a special round of field training. Professor Byleth had arranged for the Blue Lions to run practice drills against the Knights of Seiros, and had managed to persuade his father to help. The former mercenary had generously offered a place to any who wished to take part, even if they weren’t a member of his class. Eager to learn from the legendary Blade Breaker himself, most of the Black Eagles, Golden Deer and even a few residents of Abyss had jumped at the chance and left for the Sealed Forest after breakfast.

To learn from Jeralt Eisner was a once in a lifetime opportunity and Lorenz would have readily gone himself had he not had an exam scheduled mid-morning. It was a pity, but rescheduling was not an option unless he wanted to wait for another gap in Professor Hanneman’s busy schedule. He’d already waited a long while to move up from Cavalier to Dark Knight. So Lorenz pushed down his disappointment and made the best of it. A master rank certification would be another feather in his already brightly plumed cap, definitely something to write home about. He’d already passed the written portion of the exam a week prior, and with a perfect score to boot! Lorenz knew Claude had only scraped a Wyvern Rider certificate with a mediocre seventy-nine percent. _As if the disparity between us needed greater proof_ , he’d thought smugly when he found out. One could not present evidence more clearly than written in plain black and white.

Now it was simply time to pass the practical part of the exam. Lorenz’s horsemanship and lancework were already exceptional, so further testing was not required. Instead Professor Hanneman would judge his aptitude for Reason and grade him accordingly.

Lorenz was not worried. He had passed the Mage and Warlock certifications with ease one after another, and his magic had gone from strength to strength ever since. Helped in no small amount by the fact he now wielded the mighty Thyrsus. After dealing with that troublesome cur Acheron, Lorenz’s father had finally seen fit to allow his son the use of their treasured relic. Lorenz had never felt so proud in his life as when Count Gloucester took Thyrsus from its glass case and placed it reverently into Lorenz’s waiting hands. A shiver had run through Lorenz’s whole body as he felt his crest respond to the pull of Thyrsus’ crest stone. They fit perfectly, like joining together matching pieces of a puzzle.

That had been nearly a moon ago and Lorenz had practiced diligently from the moment Thyrsus was given to him. The dark magic he had always excelled at was stronger than it had ever been, and he had every confidence the second part of the test would go as smoothly as the first.

Then maybe, just maybe, Lorenz’s success might make Professor Hanneman reconsider who should hold the position of House Leader to the Golden Deer. It had not happened yet, but Lorenz hadn’t given up hope. Anyone with the smallest degree of sense could see he was far more suited to the position than Claude. He must invite their teacher to tea again to discuss it further.

Unseating that scoundrel Claude was always a nice thought and one that soothed the pang of envy Lorenz experienced as he said goodbye to Ferdinand outside the dining hall and watched his best friend head excitedly towards the stables. Ferdinand knew how disappointed he was to miss Jeralt’s impromptu seminar and had promised to relay everything the captain said to Lorenz when they returned. Ah, Ferdinand was a dear.

After they wished each other luck and parted, Lorenz collected the materials he would need for his test and made for the training grounds. Hanneman wasn’t there yet, but Lorenz had company even so. Ignatz, Ashe, Bernadetta and, urgh, _Claude_ , were stood at the far end of the yard where the archery targets were. Jeralt’s training was based in close combat and not very useful to the archers. So Shamir had offered them a lesson from her instead, which Lorenz thought most civil. She hadn’t arrived yet and her students were standing in a loose gaggle, talking among themselves instead of spending the time productively warming up. Naturally Claude was doing nothing to set a good example and was slouched against a pillar with posture that would make Lorenz’s old etiquette tutor faint, chatting with Ashe as though he had not a care in the world. Lorenz fought down an irritated sigh. He’d go over and scold Claude if he weren’t so busy. Instead his gaze drifted to Ignatz, who was fighting the uphill battle that was trying to engage Bernadetta in conversation. It didn’t seem to be going well if her terrified squeaks were anything to go by.

Lorenz watched all this for a moment, until Claude turned and caught his eye before Lorenz could look away. Claude, not embarrassed in the least by his lack of conduct, threw Lorenz an easy smile and one of his infuriating winks. Lorenz frowned and looked away with a dismissive sound and a toss of his bangs, annoyed he’d been caught staring. His cheeks felt hot. Must be the Summer sun getting to him. He’d have to start applying protective salve. His pale skin had always burned easily.

Hanneman finally arrived ten minutes later with an apology about getting caught up in his research. Lorenz accepted gracefully, as was only proper, and waited for his teacher to start the exam.

“Hmm,” Hanneman took out a gold pocket watch, glanced at it and nodded. “Very well. Are you ready, Lorenz?”

“Of course, Professor.”

“Then let us begin.”

Lorenz twirled Thyrsus then gripped it firmly, feeling the staff’s warmth and its deep throb of magic up his arm, then all the way to his core. His heartbeat skipped and the cropped hair on the back of his neck prickled. Sparks danced from Thyrsus’s head, its crest stone flashed, and suddenly the air was full of the sharp ozone scent of black magic. At the other side of the yard his classmates had paused in their conversation to watch. Lorenz was not at all bothered as he was far from shy. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He looked to Professor Hanneman, who nodded once, and the test began. Lorenz was put through his paces, destroying training dummies in various ways as Hanneman tested his aim, speed, precision and control. Lorenz was in his element, fulfilling the older mage’s orders almost as soon as Hanneman gave them; destroy that dummy, knock that one’s head off but don’t touch the body, disarm that one, then several more in quick succession. Lorenz breezed through all of it, reveling in the heady rush of Thyrsus magnifying his power. If he were a commoner or lesser noble he may have felt giddy with how well it was going. He was born for this.

The final and most difficult task was to destroy an armored dummy while leaving the four surrounding it unharmed. Lorenz drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore the prickle at the back of his neck from the steady green eyed gaze he knew was fixed on him, took aim, and fired his best _Ragnarok_. The dummy turned to ash but its companions only swayed in the sudden updraft. Lorenz lowered Thyrsus with a stifled sigh of relief. It was over, he’d done it. Just like he knew he would.

“Oh, well _done_ , Lorenz!” Professor Hanneman beamed, scribbling something on a scroll he’d pulled from somewhere, then clapping his gloved hands together happily. “I’d say that’s another perfect score! An excellent demonstration. You obviously worked very hard.”

Lorenz smiled and preened, puffing out his chest and throwing back his shoulders. He could hear applause and whooping from the other side of the training yard. Naturally. Who could fail to cheer after that?

And Claude? Claude must have seen everything. Could green eyes go greener still with envy? Lorenz smirked at the thought.

“Thank you, Professor. It was nothing.”

“Quite, quite,” Hanneman said, reaching into his robes to look at his pocket watch again. “Nevertheless, well done again. Anyway Lorenz, if you drop by my office later I’ll have your certificate ready. Now, if you’ll excuse me –“

“Wait, Professor,” Lorenz interjected quickly before the older mage could vanish back to his laboratory. Hanneman never scrimped on his teaching but that didn’t mean he wasn’t always itching to get back to his crestology research. One needed to be assertive to pry extra time from him.

“If you would permit me, I have something else to show you. A new spell I have created. For extra credit.”

“Oh?” Hanneman peered keenly at him through his monocle. Crestology may have been the Professor’s passion, but he had a healthy interest in other forms of magic too. 

“Yes,” Lorenz answered promptly, drawing himself up higher and puffing his chest out further still like a proud peacock. “An improvement to the traditional _Warp_ spell. Instead of moving one person at a time, my creation swaps the locations of _two_ people.”

The idea had dawned on Lorenz two moons ago when Lysithea had nearly collapsed on the battlefield from multiple uses of _Warp_. It was a well known problem amongst mages and generals alike. _Warp_ was an incredibly useful spell, but drained large amounts of mana at each cast. Lorenz had felt it himself the few times he’d used it. So he’d gotten to thinking, what if the spell could be made more efficient? A lot of research, trial and error, blood, sweat and tears later, Lorenz had finally succeeded and was ready to share the fruits of his labor with an adoring public.

“Just think of the applications!” Lorenz went on, gesticulating grandly. “Mages would double their warp count for no extra mana spent. Moving twice as many troops as before. This could revolutionize battle as we know it!”

His speech finished, Lorenz beamed at Hanneman, who he was pleased to see looked suitably impressed.

“Really? My, my, that does sound quite splendid. Have you tested it yet?”

Lorenz nodded. He had, first on inanimate objects, then on various insects and finally on some mice he’d caught outside the dining hall. 

“I have, sir. Would you allow me to demonstrate?”

“Please do.”

Permission granted, Lorenz sprang into action. He left the yard for a moment and returned swiftly with two caged cats. He released them at opposite sides of the yard and gave each a fish to keep them from wandering away. Then he strode importantly back to the middle of the yard and raised Thyrsus, ready to cast. Lorenz’s gaze darted back to the archers’ corner for a moment. They were all still watching him and Lorenz felt pride rise in his chest like a gathering storm. Yes, let them all watch. Let Claude watch Lorenz succeed where he could never.

_I am better than you, so-called von Riegan. A better scholar, a better leader, a better man. Never forget that!_

“Ready?” Hanneman asked.

Lorenz noticed he’d put away his scroll and taken out a notebook instead. His teacher leaned forward eagerly, pen poised to write.

Lorenz tossed his bangs and raised his relic higher.

“Of course.”

“Then please, proceed!”

Muttering an incantation under his breath, Lorenz watched as a familiar violet magic circle appeared before him. It turned slowly, hissing and crackling with power. Both cats paused and looked up from their fish as they were suddenly surrounded by the same dark glow. One arched its back and yowled while the other hissed and scrabbled. It was no use, the spell held them tightly in place.

Holding his power in check as he finished the incantation, Lorenz prepared to bring the staff down and cast. All at once he heard Hanneman suddenly call out to him, abrupt and alarmed.

“Wait, Lorenz! I think you’re using too much-!”

Lorenz felt it then, but it was already too late. There was an almighty _CRACK_ and the spell shattered and violently rebounded, throwing him back like a ragdoll in a blinding explosion of golden light. Lorenz’s back slammed into something hard and unyielding and then there was only darkness.

***

It felt like he’d been gone a long time when Lorenz stirred. Consciousness returned slowly and it was with some effort that he recalled what had happened. His new spell had broken down in front of everyone. In front of Claude. Oh Goddess, Claude saw _everything_ , and that more than anything made Lorenz want to crawl under something and never come out.

He’d probably feel even more mortified if his entire body didn’t feel like he’d just wrestled a demonic beast. Lorenz’s head was splitting, his limbs felt like lead and his skin seemed a size too small. It was so hard to move, as if his insides had been hollowed out and he’d lost every bit of muscle. His uniform was damp with cold sweat and even moving his fingers made him tremble with the effort. Lorenz recognized this feeling from his time as a novice at the Royal School of Sorcery. During his first month there he’d used too much mana too fast and pushed his body to the limit in a vain attempt to impress his teachers. They were the opposite of impressed if the harsh scolding he’d received when he woke up was any indication. Fortunately mana sickness, while unpleasant, was easily cured. He’d need a few hours rest and some food, or better yet, a mana replenish tincture. Professor Manuela could help with that. Had they already brought him to her? It didn’t feel like he was still outside.

Then Lorenz realized belatedly that he wasn’t lying on one of the infirmary’s lumpy beds but what felt like...carpet? Or a plush rug. Also instead of the familiar medicinal scents of the infirmary, he could smell dried flowers and expensive cologne. It was so quiet too. The infirmary was never quiet like this, even in its private rooms. What in Fodlan - ?

Lorenz tried, failed, tried again and managed to open his eyes. Only to squint in confusion when he found himself looking up not at one of the monastery ceilings, but a blurry image of familiar intricately carved marble.

Lorenz waited for his vision to settle down then carefully sat up and glanced around in woozy befuddlement. He was lying on the floor of a familiar room; the master bedroom of Gloucester Manse. It was unmistakable. One could not fail to recognize his own home. Had his malfunctioned spell warped him all the way back to _Leicester?_ No wonder he felt so awful! His mana must be completely drained.

It took him a few moments to realize in his groggy state but the room wasn’t exactly as Lorenz had remembered it. Apparently his father had decided to remodel. Furniture had been moved or replaced, new windows put in complete with drapes, a violet canopy hung round the bed and the wallpaper had changed from grim storm gray to a soothing lilac. New ornaments had been artfully arranged on formally bare surfaces and luxurious Sreng tapestries hung on the walls. Father had certainly made a lot of changes and Lorenz had to say he approved. The room looked infinitely better now. Whoever Father’s decorators were, Lorenz would have meet them and offer his compliments! Everything he could see was an improvement and positively dripped with good taste.

Yet, something nagged at him.

Lorenz shook his head again, suddenly confused. He’d visited home only a moon ago to pick up Thyrsus (which he noted with relief was lying beside him). When had Father had time to do all this? Collecting accessories was nothing, but all the changes to the room itself? Lorenz was no expert but surely this kind of remodeling would take a few months at least? How had it been done so quickly? Once he felt more steady, he’d have to find the Count and ask. After he’d explained how and why he was there, of course.

Lorenz was just admiring a large, Almyran looking vase and the yellow roses it held as he waited for the strength to return to his legs, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him do a double take.

On the wall was Thyrsus. Reverently mounted over a shield with a coat of arms Lorenz didn’t recognize, and crossed over with...no, it couldn’t be. Was that _Failnaught?_

Lorenz’s jaw dropped and he gaped dumbly at the two relics. Then looked slowly down at Thyrsus, _his_ Thyrsus, still lying quietly beside his thigh. He reached out to touch the staff and shivered as it pulsed against his fingertips. Definitely the real thing. So those on the wall had to be fakes. Lorenz looked up at them again, brow crinkled in confusion. 

Why would his father make a fake Thyrsus? Even better, why in the name of Sothis would he craft a fake _Failnaught_ , the relic of their most bitter rivals, and then mount it on the wall of his _bedroom?_

The crest stone “eyes” of both relics swivelled towards him and Lorenz gulped, spooked despite himself. Imitations or not, that was truly unsettling. He was just starting to wonder if this was all some mad dream and in reality he was lying in the infirmary with his head wrapped in bandages, when a sudden rattle from the windows made Lorenz start again. The handle had turned down. Someone was coming in from the terrace.

Ah good, whoever it was could help him –

That thought shrivelled up and died along with all others in Lorenz’s head when he saw who it was that walked in.

 _Claude von Riegan_. Lorenz could never mistake him if he tried. Thank Goddess Claude had paused on the threshold and was looking back over his shoulder, talking to someone Lorenz couldn’t see, or he would have seen him straight away. 

Acting on some deep instinct, Lorenz lurched up, dived behind a nearby screen (purple and printed with plumed, dancing horses, truly exquisite) and collapsed gracelessly, splay legged against the wall. He could see Claude’s profile through the dividing crack in the screen sections.

What was Claude doing here? Here in Lorenz’s home, in his father’s _bedroom_ no less? How in Fodlan could he have gotten here before Lorenz did? Just how long was he unconscious?

These questions swirled and darted in his mind like fish in the monastery pond and Lorenz couldn’t come up with logical answers to any of them. So instead, he remained quiet and observed Claude from his hiding spot. Even at a distance Lorenz could tell something was off. Like the room, Claude was totally familiar but also somehow wrong. It had to be him, it just had to be. Didn’t it? Yes...Unless Claude had a secret older brother. Because that was the difference, Lorenz realized; this Claude looked older. He was broader, taller, filled out from the lean, wiry teen Lorenz knew. His face was stronger, a fashionably cut beard lining his shapely jaw. The effect was like seeing an already lovely flower finally open in full bloom-

Wait, what?

Lorenz shook his head at _that_ ridiculous thought, then winced as the movement made his skull throb. Whatever bizarre notions that popped into his brain must be the result of his compromised physical state. He _was_ feeling a little feverish. 

Lorenz had no idea what to do next. He prayed this new, strange Claude would just leave so he could escape and seek out his father or a member of their staff who could explain these bizarre happenings to him. However, what he saw next brought his mind to such a screeching halt that all thoughts of flight immediately became irrelevant.

Claude had moved fully into the room and following behind him was…

No.

No, no, _no!_

Everything Lorenz had seen so far had been strange but not outside of the realms of possibility. His father could have hired the world’s fastest decorators and paid them to make relic replicas for some plan Lorenz wasn’t privy to. Claude could have some older male relative who looked exactly like him, and had apparently decided to break into Lorenz’s home. But this?

Lorenz, completely frozen with shock and disbelief, stared at _himself_. Himself, unmistakably. Another Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, plain as day. Stood in the middle of the room, chatting amicably with Claude.

It couldn’t be real. Now he was convinced he was dreaming. This couldn’t be happening. It was _impossible_.

Like Claude, the other ( _fake_ , his mind supplied, _not real_ ) Lorenz looked a few years older. His hair had grown out and his form had filled out some, though not as much as Claude’s. Lorenz realized with a jolt that other-Lorenz was dressed in the Sovereign Duke’s regalia. Meanwhile the Claude lookalike wore a bizarre golden outfit that looked Almyran, covered in sashes and bells.

Lorenz slumped against the wall and willed himself to wake up. The only way any of this could be real was if he’d travelled not just the physical distance to Gloucester, but through time as well. If he’d appeared years into the future after he’d successfully taken control of the Alliance. But that simply couldn’t be. Chronomancy was a purely theoretical branch of magic. No mage had ever traveled through time, though many had tried. 

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed what happened next.

Claude was laughing at something other-Lorenz said while other-Lorenz shook his head and sighed in a fond way that made Lorenz’s stomach sink unpleasantly. If he was Duke, why was Claude still here? Not just here in the Alliance, but here in Gloucester Manse? In what was probably now Lorenz’s _bedroom?_

“Look, you’ve got crumbs on it,” other-Lorenz was saying as he brushed Claude’s cravat. “Please try to stay presentable at least until we’ve met with King Dimitri and the archbishop.”

 _King_ Dimitri? And Lady Rhea was here too? That was extremely unusual since she so rarely left Garreg Mach.

“No promises,” Claude winked as other-Lorenz fussed over him. Smoothing his hair (no braid, Lorenz noted) and tugging non-existent wrinkles out of his shirt. “Looking forward to seeing Ferdinand?”

Other-Lorenz smiled.

“Yes, of course. It’s been far too long.”

“Just don’t disappear off to tea with him when we get a free moment and leave me with Hubert,” Claude said, tone teasing. “I mean it, Lor. Take him with you or find something for him to do. Preferably with as few corpses as possible..”

_Lor?!_

Seemingly deaf to the abysmal mangling of his name, other-Lorenz just tutted. Though the side of his mouth kept quirking up into a smile.

“ _Really_ , Claude. You complain about not being able to find a partner for chess and then when one comes along-”

“I can’t play chess with him for the whole week.”

“Why not? After a week you may actually win a game.”

What...what _was_ this? Why were they talking like that instead of arguing? It was so - Lorenz‘s abused mind cast around for the right word - so…

_Domestic._

Claude was laughing.

“ _Oho!_ Sassy today, aren’t we?”

Then he did something that made Lorenz’s blood run colder than if he’d just been hit with a critical _Blizzard_.

He watched, stunned and appalled, as Claude put his arms around his other self’s narrow waist and pulled him forward so their chests were flush together in a way that was undeniably intimate. Everything in Lorenz was screaming, but it was about to get so much worse. Instead of shoving Claude away, he watched his other self _return_ the embrace and wrap his arms delicately round the other man’s back. Claude’s grin grew and his eyes twinkled as he spoke again.

“And there’s only one thing to do with a sassy mouth.”

Then Claude leaned forward and kissed him.

Kissed him. Kissed Lorenz. On the mouth. Like a lover.

And instead of doing the sane thing and blasting Claude with _Agnea’s Arrow_ , other-Lorenz leaned into the kiss with a pleased sound.

This was hell. He was in hell. The spell had killed him and now he was experiencing eternal damnation.

The kiss seemed to last for several eternities before Claude and - not him! _Never_ him! Some foul, demonic facsimile of him! – finally broke apart. Though Claude still kept a loose hold around other-Lorenz’s waist. Both of their faces were flushed. Lorenz was unbearably glad he missed what was said between them next thanks to his mind turning to soup.

Other-Lorenz smiled and shook his head at whatever remark Claude had made. Claude rolled his eyes and actually tweaked other-Lorenz’s nose before finally letting him go and stepping back.

When he reached up, Lorenz had seen a golden wedding band gleam on Claude’s finger. His other self wore a matching one. Next to a jewelled engagement ring set with the Riegan crest. Claude wore one emblazoned with Gloucester. The same ring Lorenz’s father had once given his mother.

He was going to be sick all over his uniform.

While Lorenz was pondering the merits of a quick death by hurling himself off the terrace, Claude had stepped towards the door. He swung it open but didn’t leave, looking back at other-Lorenz instead.

“Don’t be too long. Her Imperial Excellency will be here in an hour and it will be all hands on deck keeping things civil between her and Dimitri.”

“Of course. I will be as quick as I can.”

Claude bade him farewell and the door clicked shut behind him.

Lorenz was dimly aware of his other self moving around the room but it was hard to focus on anything other than what he’d just witnessed. If this were not simply a terrible dream as he dearly hoped, then somehow he really had sent himself to the future. A future where he and Claude...

He couldn’t go on. It was too horrific.

Lorenz reached a trembling hand up to pinch himself and try and end this nightmare, but someone beat him to it. The heir to the great house Gloucester squeaked like a startled mouse as a hand suddenly gripped his upper arm.

Lorenz whipped his head round and saw his other self. Their gazes met and he found himself looking up into his own violet eyes. Like a reflection but not. It was utterly surreal.

His other self spoke.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” he said in a soothing voice. “The spell will wear off soon and you’ll be sent back to your time.”

Lorenz tried to answer but all that came out was a confused gurgle. His other self smiled, seemingly amused.

“Don’t try to talk. You’ve had quite a shock, I know. We don’t have much time so let me tell you what I know you want to know; yes, the spell did send you into the future. Seven years to be exact. Yes, you are in Gloucester, and yes, Claude –“ Lorenz shook his head desperately but his other self carried on regardless “-is your – is _our_ – husband.”

“No,” Lorenz breathed when he found his voice again. “No…this isn’t real. This can’t be happening! It’s impossible! With _Claude?_ Never! I would _never!_ ”

Other-Lorenz’s face took on an indulgent expression that gave Lorenz the mad desire to hit him.

“I thought so too once upon a time. But when you get to know him, the _real_ him, you’ll see-“

“I don’t want to see!” Lorenz cried. “What did he do?! Was it blackmail? Did he kidnap us? Use some kind of evil magic? No, forget it! I don’t want to know, and I don’t care what you say!”

Lorenz struggled to stand and half managed it. He sagged against the wall on shaking legs but still raised a hand and pointed defiantly down at his older self, who stayed kneeling.

“I will _not_ allow this to happen! I _refuse_ to accept this - this _apocalypse_ must come to pass! You may have failed, but I Lorenz Hellman Gloucester – the _real_ Lorenz Hellman Gloucester – shall succeed in escaping whatever evil this is!”

Far from being awed at his declaration, other-Lorenz actually had the gall to chuckle. He shook his head and smiled that infuriating smile again. Like Lorenz was simply an overtired child making a scene about being sent to bed.

“Haha, of course, of course. I remember the Lorenz who came before me couldn’t make me believe it either.”

He went on at Lorenz’s confused look. 

“I _am_ you, Lorenz. What you’re experiencing happened to me too. And I wager you’ll attend this meeting again in seven years from your time. Just from a different perspective.”

“No,” Lorenz shook his head so hard his sharp bangs flew out from his face. “No. _Never!_ ”

“As you wish,” other-Lorenz said like he believed anything but.

He picked up Thyrsus and handed it to him.

“Here. Oh and when you get back, talk to Byleth. He has your rose.”

“What?”

“Your silk rose. The one you lost last week? Byleth found it. He’ll give it back to you.”

Lorenz was about to object fiercely once more, but something was happening. The room was getting brighter and brighter, its edges wavering and becoming less defined. A familiar violet magic circle flared in front of him and everything shivered and shimmered gold. His other self was still talking but his voice had started to echo and distort. The magic that brought Lorenz to his time must be reaching its limit: the spell was breaking down.

The ground rocked under Lorenz’s boots and then fell away completely. He gripped Thyrsus tightly and tried not to scream as he plunged down into the void.

The last thing Lorenz heard was the sound of his own voice calling to him.

“It will be alright! Everything will turn out well in the end! And don’t forget the rose!”

Then the blackness swallowed him up and he knew no more.

***

Consciousness returned much harder the second time. Lorenz slowly and painfully became aware that he was lying on something hard. All except his head which was propped up and cushioned on something soft. Speaking of his head, it was pounding like he had the worst hangover in his life. A full body one at that. There was a quiet murmur of voices above him but he couldn’t make sense of any of the words. Even those soft sounds made the pain throb worse. If before Lorenz felt like he grappled with a demonic beast, now he felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a dragon. _Two_ dragons. Absolutely everything hurt and he could barely twitch a finger. His eyes felt like they’d been nailed shut.

Though it was no wonder. If the first trip had used up all his mana, the second must have burned through every last bit of energy he had.

Someone lightly slapped his face. Lorenz groaned.

“Hey, I think he’s coming round!”

Oh no. Oh sweet Goddess in heaven, please _no_. Not him. _Anyone_ but him, Sothis have mercy - !

With a herculean effort, Lorenz forced his eyes open a crack. The image that swam into view was Claude von Riegan’s smiling face. His upside down smiling face. Lorenz abruptly realized what he was lying on and would have screamed if he had any energy left.

Literally any other lap in Fodlan would have been preferable.

“Welcome back, Lorenz,” Claude said, adjusting their position so Lorenz could look up at him more easily. “Thought we’d lost you for a second there.”

“A-are you okay?!” Bernadetta’s squeak came somewhere from his left, sounding even more hysterical than usual. “W-we thought you were dead! I’ve n-never seen a spell do that before!”

“Indeed,” Hanneman from his right, great relief in his teacher’s voice. “Whatever happened, Lorenz can tell us about it later. For now let’s just get him to Manuela.”

“I’ll take him,” Claude said.

Lorenz tried to protest but his tongue had apparently forgotten how to form words.

Claude shifted beneath him and Lorenz squeezed his eyes shut, the world rocking sickeningly as he was pulled to his feet. His limbs felt like water and Lorenz knew he would have face planted if not for Claude slinging his arm over his shoulders. Lorenz kept his eyes closed and struggled not to vomit as his stomach roiled. The others were still discussing him.

“He doesn’t look good…” Ignatz. Lorenz could picture him anxiously fiddling with his glasses the way he always did when stressed.

“Do you need help, Claude?” Ashe. Yes, please let him help. Or better yet, take over and leave Claude out completely.

“Nah, I’m fine. It’s easier this way.”

Lorenz was about to try and ask if Claude intended to drag him to the infirmary, until the wretched man stepped neatly in front of him and grabbed the back of his thighs. Then Lorenz Hellman Gloucester found himself bounced up into a piggyback, courtesy of Claude von Riegan.

It was at this point that Lorenz began to wonder what he’d done to make the Goddess hate him personally. Maybe confessing to Byleth that he’d always had his doubts about her existence while in a cathedral, had not been the smartest idea. He had time to consider it as Claude bade their companions farewell and left the training area, Lorenz unwillingly along for the ride.

Lorenz kept his eyes shut tight and tried to pretend this wasn’t happening. He dearly hoped that everyone was still out training so no one else had to see him like this. At least Claude was being quiet for once-

“Hey, Lorenz? Doing okay back there?”

_Sothis damn it all!_

“Mmm…” was all he could get out.

“You really gave everyone a scare,” Claude said conversationally.

Lorenz wished he could raise his head from where it had fallen on Claude’s shoulder. After the infernal sights he’d just witnessed, he wanted to put as much space between them as possible.

Though several continents worth of space between himself and Claude wouldn’t feel sufficient now.

Claude shrugged his shoulders to get a better grip and continued.

“What were you trying to do, anyway? Hanneman didn’t say-“

“ _Claude_ ,” Lorenz rasped, forcing his eyes back open a sliver.

“Yeah?”

“Claude von Riegan,” he managed, drawing in what air he could to punctuate his next thought. “Listen well, because I want to make one thing _very_ clear,” talking like this was probably a bad idea. It was making his head spin worse. Lorenz pressed on regardless. “Are you listening…? Good. I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, no matter how you beg and plead, n-no matter what vile tactics you employ, I…”

He broke off, reeling with the effort. Claude interrupted, sounding concerned.

“Hey, tell me later, okay? It can wait till after-”

“No! It _cannot_ wait!” Lorenz’s sentences were a few syllables shorter than they should be, his words blurring together like wet ink on paper. But it mattered not so long as Claude got the message.

“Fine, fine…”

“I-“ a white fog had settled on his eyelashes, bringing them further and further down each second. “Will n-never, _ever_ , marry you, Claude.”

Claude stopped short and almost let go of him. Lorenz barely noticed. He was on his way out, but he was a Gloucester man and he would go down fighting!

“No…no matter what I...what the him who’s me said…there’s no way we will ever… _ever_ be wed…s-s-so adjust your schemes…accordingly, von Riegan…”

It was a pity he couldn’t see Claude’s face. The dastard must be furious that Lorenz had brilliantly foiled his evil plan. Oh well, Lorenz thought as his eyes finally slipped shut all the way and he went limp over Claude’s back. One cannot have everything.

***

Lorenz awoke in the infirmary to the feeling of Professor Manuela’s hand behind his head as she lifted him enough to press a cup of her patented mana restoration potion against his lips.

“Drink, Lorenz. It will help you feel better.”

The brew tasted like paint thinner, only not so palatable, and Lorenz gagged as he swallowed it down. Thankfully, Manuela fetched him some water afterwards to wash the foul taste away. Then Lorenz was allowed to go back to sleep for an hour or so until she woke him again for another cup of potion. 

Later still, after more sleep and medicine, Lorenz felt almost back to normal. Despite her questionable nightly escapades, Manuela really knew her remedies. She also knew how to give an excellent telling off. Deaf to Lorenz’s attempts to explain what had happened, Manuela scolded him for messing with untested magic for such a long time that Lorenz wished he could sink down the bed and hide under the blankets. He also felt bad for Hanneman, who Manuela assured him she would “have words” with next time they met. It only ended when she was called away to another patient and Lorenz was left alone to recuperate.

He lay in bed and stared up at the cracks in the infirmary ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. It seemed so real at the time and yet it could not have been. Though all dreams seemed real while they were happening, no matter how ludicrous. Now Lorenz was back and recovered, he felt rather foolish to have worried as much as he did. He’d fallen, hit his head and had a strange nightmare, that was all. These things happened sometimes. Why, Ferdinand had a similar experience after he’d been thrown from his horse once. Afterwards his friend had shudderingly confided to Lorenz that he’d dreamed he was married to Hubert von Vestra of all people! Such a mad notion! They still laughed about it years later. A romance between Ferdinand and _Hubert_ was only slightly more believable than a marriage between Lorenz and _Claude_.

Lorenz brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eye and tried to relax. It was all just a fantasy. No need to concern himself further. He would do as Ferdinand had and see the funny side.

He’d spent most of the day in the infirmary and soon the monastery bells were chiming six o’clock. Lorenz was about to get up and ask Manuela if he could leave and get himself some dinner, when the door was knocked then abruptly kicked open, making him jump. Lorenz’s heart sank at the sight of Claude coming in with a tray, explaining why he hadn’t opened the door like a normal person.

“Hey, you’re up!” Claude sounded pleased as he sauntered over and set the tray down on Lorenz’s lap with a smile. Lorenz stared down at it. Two fish sauté and a steaming cup of rose tea. Both his favorites. 

“So it would seem.”

Claude, blast him, did not leave but instead sat on the bed without asking. Lorenz stared determinedly down at the fish, watching the butter melt over their perfectly crisped skins. He only vaguely recalled the trip to the infirmary, but the way his stomach turned over when he tried to remember details boded ill. He had a horrible feeling he’d said something unfortunate in his barely lucid state.

Claude failed to speak again, so Lorenz went on. Maybe talking with Claude would make him leave faster.

“Thank you for bringing this.”

“No problem,” Claude crossed his legs and leant back with his hands behind his head in his usual irritating pose.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.”

“Good.”

There was another pause. Then:

“You know, you must have really hit your head hard,” Claude said conversationally. “You were mumbling some crazy stuff on the way here.”

Claude’s tone was light, casual enough to put most listeners at ease. But Lorenz had known him long enough to sense the gleeful curiosity beneath. Those green eyes would be sparkling if Lorenz dared look into them. Von Riegan was nosy as a monastery cat, so long as the information he wanted was forbidden to him.

Well, hard luck, Lorenz thought grimly. Claude’s curiosity would just have to go unsated. There was simply no way Lorenz was going to tell him any more than he had already. This whole stupid mess was probably Claude’s fault anyway (Lorenz wasn’t sure how, but he’d give it some thought) and Lorenz was not going to indulge him.

To prove his point, Lorenz picked up his knife and fork and began to eat in lieu of answering.

Claude wasn’t deterred.

“Something about a marriage…?”

Lorenz applauded his high amounts of self-control when he didn’t choke on a mouthful of fish. Instead he went on chewing demurely as if Claude had simply commented on the weather.

“A marriage between us? Can you imagine,” Claude grinned his cat grin and stole a piece of fish from Lorenz’s plate, munching it companionably. Lorenz had to look up at that, scowling.

“I have no idea as to what you are referring to, Claude,” he sniffed, as haughty as he could manage. “I was quite delirious. Pay no mind to anything I said, it was all nonsense.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Claude sing-songed, trying to dodge Lorenz’s fork and swipe more fish. “You sounded pretty serious. Said - what was it? Oh yeah - that you’d “never marry me no matter what I did”. _Harsh_ , Lorenz. A guy could get the idea you didn’t like him.”

The dastard actually batted his eyes and pulled a tragic expression like some forlorn soprano from one of Mittelfrank’s operas. Lorenz allowed a brief fantasy of stabbing him with the fork.

“Like I said, pure nonsense,” Lorenz said through gritted teeth.

His cheeks felt unbearably hot. Perhaps he was still a little feverish. Why did Claude have to sit so close to him? Did they not have chairs wherever he’d sprung from? Or the concept of personal space? He actually leaned in even closer to answer Lorenz, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Oh? So does that mean you _would-_ ”

“That is certainly _not_ what I meant and you know it! Do not twist my words!”

“Okay, okay. Keep your hair on!” Claude said with a theatrical sigh, hands held up in surrender. “I suppose I’ll just have to tell everyone the wedding is-”

Whatever blasphemous statement was about to come out of that grinning mouth was mercifully interrupted by another knock at the door.

“Come in!” Lorenz called, mentally thanking whoever it was that had saved him with every fiber of his being.

His savior turned out to be Professor Byleth. He surveyed them both with his usual impassive gaze, and then walked over to Lorenz’s bed. In his gloved hand was something red and very familiar.

_“Your rose. Professor Byleth has it.”_

Lorenz felt his mouth go dry.

“Hello Lorenz, Claude,” Byleth nodded to them both in turn. Claude returned the greeting in his usual flippant manner. Lorenz couldn’t speak, gaze locked on his missing accessory.

Byleth noticed his look and held out the rose to Lorenz.

“Lorenz, I found this by the fishing pond. It’s yours isn’t it?” He asked in his soft voice.

Lorenz just stared at the rose like it had sprouted tentacles. Claude smiled and plucked the flower from Byleth’s palm.

“Yeah Teach, it’s his.”

“Good,” Byleth nodded, pleased. He fell silent for a long moment, then carried on.

“I hope you feel better, Lorenz. Goodnight.”

Then he turned and left as quickly as he came. The Lions’ professor was an odd man. Kind, but odd.

Lorenz looked at the rose Claude held and tried not to spiral down into all consuming panic. It was a coincidence. Byleth was always finding things and returning them to their rightful owners. It just happened to be Lorenz’s turn was all! He swallowed hard and tried not to think of inevitability. Of the future. Of his classmate sitting beside him, who had taken it upon himself to pin Lorenz’s rose back in its usual place.

“There,” Claude smiled at his handiwork. “There’s the Lorenz we know and love.”

It was a dream. A dream. Just a dream, it meant nothing! 

Lorenz repeated this sanity saving mantra over and over again as the evening wore on. Seemingly sensing his troubled mental state, Claude stayed at his side. He teased him as usual, chatted about what Lorenz had missed in afternoon class, stole more of Lorenz’s dinner, joked about nothing in particular, then insisted on helping Lorenz back to his room after Manuela said he could go.

“I’m fine, Claude. I don’t need help…”

“Sure, sure. Just humor me, okay? I think I’ve carried you to Manuela enough for one day.”

Lorenz’s face was hot again. He couldn’t find the energy to object when Claude put a steadying hand under his arm as they walked together, only taking it away when they were stood in front of Lorenz’s bed.

“Night, Lorenz. Feel better, ‘kay?”

“Good night, Claude. Thank you.”

Lorenz watched Claude’s cape flutter as he left. He closed the door behind him and Lorenz was left alone in the darkening room. He pulled off his boots and lay, fully clothed, on the bed.

Just a dream.

It wouldn’t happen, Lorenz told himself firmly over and over again. He reached up and felt the warm silk of his rose beneath his palm. Below it, his heart beat fast.

It wouldn’t happen.

Right?

***

Lorenz tried many times to recreate the spell in the months that followed. But even with his best efforts, every attempt still turned out a failure. Or rather every attempt succeeded in doing what the spell was _supposed_ to. Soon he could _Warp_ his test subjects in his sleep, but all his attempts to fail, ironically, failed. It seemed Lorenz Hellman Gloucester’s tumble through time was a freak one off. Eventually he had to shelve his experiment and put it out of his mind before it drove him mad.

Not that he had much free time to think about his strange experience. Since, as their tenure at Garreg Mach neared its end, Edelgard began her coup and Fodlan was plunged into a bloody war. Lorenz found himself forced to side with Adrestia, lest Gloucester bear the brunt of their invasion.

He did not see Claude, or any of the Deer, again after that.

The war dragged on for five bitter years. Until the miraculous return of Professor Byleth and Prince, now King, Dimitri, both of whom had been thought long dead. A new banner was raised and the remnants of the church, the Kingdom and the Alliance united beneath it to fight the Empire as one.

Edelgard’s forces had seemed unstoppable, but the tide of war had turned.

Lorenz met the enemy forces at the battle of the Great Bridge of Myrddin. The armies of Gloucester, Aegir and Bergliez had held the bridge for four years and they all knew how critical it was to keep in Imperial hands. The battle was close with both sides suffering heavy casualties. However, in the end the bridge was captured and the Empire’s forces surrendered.

Lorenz dimly recalled lying on the battlefield in a pool of blood, both his own and not. Poor Belladonna, his faithful destrier, dead beside him, a spear through her side. It had been years since he’d last prayed, but he found himself doing so once more: a wish that dear Ferdinand had escaped, and a quick death for himself. All of their troops had heard horror stories about what Dimitri did to those loyal to the Empire. Lorenz had no desire to die slowly as his entrails were pulled out or his bones crushed to powder one by one. He’d rather fade away here, surrounded by the bodies of his men.

White wings circled above. Lorenz lost time. A familiar figure stood over him, glowing gold from the sunset at his back. Leaning down, an ungloved hand laid against his cheek. Everything was green and gold. The touch was so warm.

_Did the Goddess send you? Are you here to take me with you?_

Lorenz was vaguely aware of being lifted, then carried bridal style in spite of his armor. He had no idea where he was or what was happening. It was all just a blur of sensations. He heard the murmur of voices, felt the warm caress of white magic, knew someone was holding his hand.

Then nothing for a long while.

Lorenz later found out that Claude had saved his life. Exhausted from the battle, he’d nonetheless remounted Barbarossa and flown out to search for him among the dead. If he hadn’t, Lorenz would have bled out long before help arrived.

He (and Ferdinand, who had also survived, thank the Goddess) spent a long time recovering back at Garreg Mach infirmary. Claude came to see him as soon as Manuela judged Lorenz fit for visitors. Lorenz lay there quietly, not meeting his eyes. It was so hard to think of what to say. Thankfully, Claude took the lead and they talked for a long time.

_Claude, please...I can’t. I wish I could, believe me I do, but it’s impossible. My people would be massacred._

__

__

We’re strong enough now. With the Alliance, the Kingdom and the church working together, not to mention Teach. We’ll free Gloucester and protect her people, I swear it.

_Claude…_

By the conversation’s end, Lorenz’s eyes were wet and he accepted Claude’s hand when it was offered to him again. Claude had smiled and held him tight, green eyes shining with their own unshed tears.

_Welcome home, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester._

Adrestia was driven out of the Kingdom and the Alliance, the war stalling into a seething stalemate. Until Those Who Slither in the Dark made their move. Faced with a threat of extinction, the four armies were forced to band together to put down the Agarthan threat. First Thales and Shambala, then the shades of Nemesis and his Ten Elites. The three nations were victorious but bloodied and exhausted. Winter was coming and no one could stomach the thought of more fighting, not even Edelgard. With the help of Lady Rhea and Byleth, who had been made the new Archbishop, a treaty was drawn up, a tenuous peace began, and Fodlan started the long process of healing. Claude’s origins were revealed and he returned to Almyra for a time, passing the rank of Duke down to Lorenz.

“You were always more suited to it than me,” Claude had told him with a smile. “All those stuffy assemblies and meetings with puffed up lords. Not my cup of rose tea at all.”

Lorenz had rolled his eyes.

“Indeed. Because a _king_ would never have to deal with that kind of work, Claude.”

The memory of the other man’s laughter was balm to Lorenz’s aching heart when he left for his kingdom soon after.

He felt it then. He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d done more than enough of that already.

When Claude eventually returned, Lorenz haltingly asked permission to court him. Fully prepared to be turned down, instead his heart leapt when Claude happily agreed.

***

Time marched on as it ever did. Soon, nearly seven years exactly had passed since that fateful day in the training grounds.

Lorenz sat on the terrace of Gloucester Manse eating breakfast with Claude and chatting about the gala they were hosting. A meeting of the leaders of three nations (four, if one counted Almyra) to celebrate their commitment to peace. It would be quite the affair.

Lorenz sipped his tea and felt the warm sun on his back as he gazed out over the gardens. The famous Gloucester roses, traditional red and newly planted yellow, were in full bloom. Such a beautiful day.

Then, at long last, it finally happened. Lorenz felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a sudden, familiar burst of magic ( _his_ magic) flared from inside the house. A second later he heard a soft thump as something landed on the carpet.

“What was that?” Claude looked at the windows with a raised eyebrow. Ah, but as fortune would have it, Lorenz had chosen curtains that draped over most of the glass and hid the inside of their room from view. Otherwise, his beloved may have seen something he wasn’t meant to.

“What was what? I didn’t hear anything.” Lorenz said, innocently sipping tea.

“A noise in our room.”

“In our room?” Lorenz made a show of rising out of his seat to peer in through the window. He couldn’t see any better than Claude could, but pretended otherwise.

“Nothing amiss,” he assured, and restarted their conversation.

After enough time had passed, Lorenz set his cup down, dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and stood up.

“Finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on then, let’s head inside.”

They did. They talked. They kissed. Claude left. Even after all this time, Lorenz remembered everything he would do. He saw the smallest of movements from the corner of his eye. Something shifted behind the screen.

It was time. He walked over and bent down to catch hold of his younger self’s arm.

Lorenz smiled kindly down at his - what had been - his face, stark white and trembling with shock. Oh dear, perhaps Hilda had been right all along about that haircut. Oh well, much too late to worry about it now.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” he said soothingly. “The spell will wear off soon and you’ll be sent back to your time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Love me some good Claurenz. :D


End file.
